The Graveyard Shift
by R.J. Peterson
Summary: In 1980's London, people are disappearing, and UNIT is investigating. When a man is killed in a factory, the Brigadier and the Doctor discover that an old enemy is building their army underground, and they are more powerful than ever before. While the Cybermen plan to strike, the Doctor must find a way to stop them.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

5 December, 1984

The graveyard shift was over, and it was George Farrell's job to lock up at night. Shoving his drab-green "PsiGen Corporation" uniform cap and coveralls into his locker and pulling out his navy blue windbreaker, he snatched the keys from the restroom bench.

He walked up to door and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the cold of the December night. He walked outside and locked the door. Making his way toward the parking lot, the stinging wind made him shudder. His breath created plumes of condensation that expanded like clouds for a few seconds before disappearing.

London winters reminded him of the winters in Connecticut, bitingly cold and dry. But that was where the similarities stopped. London and Connecticut were very different. His home-state was almost completely forested. No matter where you looked in that state, you could bet there was a tree in your line of sight. But in London, the only trees he saw were planted by people to decorate the sidewalks.

He barely fit in the car he drove. It wasn't a small car by any means; it was only the seat. The seat was pushed all the way forward, and it was stuck that way. One day he was adjusting the seat, and he pushed himself forward too hard, and the seat just got stuck there. He tried getting someone to fix it, but he couldn't scrounge up the money.

He dreaded having to clamber into that car multiple times every day. His legs were in the way of his arms, making it terribly difficult to steer or shift gears. That, coupled with having to get to used to driving on the right side as opposed to the left, created a significantly uncomfortable driving experience.

He gracelessly climbed into the car and shuffled in his seat until he was at least partly comfortable. Once again, he realized too late that he didn't pull his keys from his pants pocket before he sat down. Not willing to stand up, George tried rummaging into his pocket, his hand just barely fitting into it. His index finger went berserk trying to fish for the key ring, but eventually, he managed to pull the keys from his pocket and shove the key into the ignition.

The engine turned over and roared to life. George Farrell started to drive out when he realized he forgot something else. He left the initial test reports for the new PsiGen industrial generator on his desk. Letting out a sigh of defeat, he turned the car off and tried clambering out of the car again. Succeeding in exiting the car, but failing to remain on his feet, George stood back up and walked back toward the PsiGen building.

Angrily jamming the key into the door of the building, George entered the building, back into the changing room he exited not five minutes ago. Running down the darkened hall and into his office, he saw the stack of papers sitting on his desk. Scooping them up, he made for the door. He didn't make it very far before a flash of silver and a sharp pain in his neck knocked him off of his feet.

As he lay on the floor, failing to keep himself awake, he realized that this was the last thing he would ever see: an awful, featureless face staring back at him.


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

14 December 1984

The disappearance of George Farrell was left in the more-than-capable hands of UNIT. The only traces of the man left anywhere near the PsiGen building were his uniform and his car. The police didn't know where the man went, and so they passed it onto Military Intelligence, who passed it onto UNIT. The Brigadier's hands were very full, in a rather empty way.

"Benton would know what to do," said Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart to himself. "I'm sure of it. It's been years since I've seen the old chap. I wonder what he's doing."

He heard a thick (and angry) Scottish accent burst out behind the doorway. "Let go of me, you idiot! I did nothing wrong! Come on, now!" the voice barked. The door to the Brigadier's office swung open.

"I was investigating, you pudding-brained imbecile! I'll have you know I've-" The man's sharp eyes widened and his thick eyebrows rose up. "Oh, Brigadier!" the man exclaimed. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, how good it is to see you!"

The soldier holding the man by the collar spoke. "We found this man poking around the crime scene."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. He just says he's a doctor. I can't get a name out of him." The Brigadier turned white. The soldier holding the man who called himself a doctor looked confused. "Sir, are you okay?"

"Leave us, Corporal. I'll talk to him."

"Sir," the soldier said, saluting and walking out.

The Doctor smiled. "Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart!"

"What the hell are you doing, Doctor?"

The Brigadier's tone took the Doctor by surprise. "Just helping."

"Just helping! Just helping after ten years! You've changed your face again as well!"

"Yes, I have. Almost ten times since the last time we met. I quite like this one. It's rude and Scottish. Those are my two favorite things to be, Brigadier. Rude and Scottish!"

The Brigadier rolled his eyes. "Do you even have any idea what's going on?"

"No, and I'm sure you don't either, Brigsy. Can I call you Brigsy? I knew a young man who called himself Rigsy, so I thought-"

"Shut up, Doctor! A man's gone missing, and we have no idea where he is!"

The Doctor laughed. "Missing persons? That's not what UNIT is for. Has UNIT been demoted?"

"No, Doctor, Military Intelligence is being lazy. But, I suppose this is our job."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Let me show you."

The Brigadier led the Doctor down multiple corridors in the PsiGen building to a gigantic room, with one of the largest machines the Doctor had ever set eyes on. It was 60 feet high, 40 feet across. At the base was a large control panel surrounding a clear glass cylinder that reached the top of the room. Small spheres of pink and purple energy floated about the inside. "PsiGen wasn't cleared to build it, whatever it is. Do you know what it is, Doctor?" as the Brigadier.

"It's a power generator. The largest of it's kind, at least by Earth standards," the Doctor said. "There's something wrong, though."

"What is it?"

"This is too advanced for 1984. A power generator this vast wasn't invented until 2915."

"Then how can it be here?" asked the Brigadier.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it isn't for the benefit of the human race."

The Brigadier paused. "Is it someone we've seen before?"

"I'm not sure, Brigadier. I'm not sure. It's pretty beat up," the Doctor replied, running his hand over some scratches and dents on the control console. "Whoever's it is, it's stolen. Smart. Very smart. Whoever's it is, they didn't build themselves. They don't want to be detected, and stolen equipment makes it untraceable. Whoever's here, they're clever. Very clever. And usually, 'clever' means danger."

Selma Farrell was taken into questioning twice. Once by the police, but she had only just learned of her husband's disappearance. When the police tried questioning her, she wouldn't speak. She had forgotten how. After a couple days, Military Intelligence tried. Selma spoke, but she only said "I only know as much as you do. I'm sorry."

Today, it was UNIT's turn.

"I'm sorry, but before you ask me any questions, I'm going to tell you what I told Military Intelligence. I don't know what happened to George, only what I've been told. I don't know anything else," she said to the man standing in front of her.

"Miss..." the Brigadier paused, checking the report for the woman's name. "Farrell," he finished. "I know this is a hard time, and I know you're tired of being questioned. I'm not here to ask you questions. I'm here to answer your questions. UNIT is not exactly a military task-force. UNIT answers questions."

Selma thought. "You said you were going to answer my questions? Do you know what happened to George?"

"No."

Selma scowled. "Then how can you help me? That's the only question I have."

The Brigadier sighed. "Okay. I'm going to let you know a secret. This is top secret. UNIT does not solve normal crimes. We deal with the unknown. The alien. The supernatural."

Selma laughed, but it was a laugh of pure disbelief. "You're saying my husband was killed by a ghost or something?"

The Brigadier shrugged. "It's just possible."

Selma stood up. "I'm going home. I'm relieved that I have conspiracy theorists working on my husbands' case!" she hollered.

"Miss Farrell, please, if you'd just listen-"

Selma shook her head angrily. "No. I won't listen. My husband is missing and no one is trying to find him! The police gave up! Military Intelligence gave up, and now they're handing it over to the superstitious!"

"Miss Farrell, It's not superstition. We have dealt with extraterrestrials before."

Selma had tears in her eyes. "I'd like to see some proof," she tested.

The Brigadier smiled. "Very well. Doctor, you may come in now."

A man walked in. He looked to be in his fifties or sixties. He wore a black overcoat, a black waistcoat, and a white shirt, buttoned all the way to the top. He was thin and tall, and reminded Selma of an owl somehow. The eyes…

"Hello, Selma," the man said. "I'm the Doctor. Please, sit down."

Selma sat. "Alright. I'm asking for proof."

"Proof for what?"

"Proof that aliens exist."

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Well, for starters, you're looking at one."

Selma scoffed. "You don't look alien," she said.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said. "You know what they say. 'Looks can be deceiving.' Here," he said, pulling a stethoscope out of his coat pocket. Selma wondered how he was able to fit it in there.

The Doctor handed her the earpieces, and she put them in. The Doctor placed the bell over one of his hearts. After a couple seconds, he placed it over his other heart. Selma scowled, confused. "Two hearts?" she whispered.

The Doctor nodded. "No human has two hearts, do they?"

"No...they don't," she said. She cleared her throat. "I'm still not convinced, though," she lied, still confused. She stood back up and cleared her throat. "As I said, I'm going home now." And with that, she stood up and stormed out the door.

The Brigadier looked to the Doctor, looking for answers. He wanted an answer, and the Doctor delivered one.

"Humans," he scoffed, standing up. "They'll believe anything they can't see but dismiss anything that is looking them in the eye. A shame, Brigadier. Anyway. Where's my office?" the Doctor smiled.

"This isn't much of an office," the Doctor said, warily.

"Of course it's not an office," said the Brigadier.

"There are plenty of offices here, I don't know why you won't let me use one of those."

"Because they aren't yours to _use_."

"Well, then whose are they? I should like to speak with them and see if I can recieve permission to use one of their offices."

"No."

"Why not?"

_Why must he make everything so difficult?_ thought the Brigadier. "They aren't here," he said, simply. He realized this was a mistake soon after.

"Then where are they?"

"At home, Doctor."

"Why are they doing that? They have perfectly good offices that are being wasted by them being at home. I'm sure they'd be happy if I lended their offices some company. Get some use out of the poor things. And who is 'they', anyway?"

"'They' are the people who work here."

"I knew that, Brigadier, I was merely asking a rhetorical question."

"You were never like this when you were bowties and recorders," the Brigadier complained.

"Last one was bowties. Poor dress choice, honestly. Tweed?" the Doctor scoffed. "Repulsive."

"Doctor, we need to talk."

"But, we're already talking-" the Doctor started.

"Shush. We think it's the Cybermen."

The Doctor simply sighed. "I _just_ mucked about with them! Oh, I saw the Master, too."

"Oh no, not him!" the Brigadier said angrily.

"_Her,_" the Doctor corrected.

"Oh," the Brigadier shook his head. "We saw cocoons, Doctor. Cyberman cocoons. And they were empty. Broken through from the inside."

"Oh, dear," the Doctor said. "We are in trouble, aren't we?"


	3. Chapter Two

"Oh, uh, Doctor," the Brigadier said as the Doctor walked by. "Some of my men have reported hearing strange noises."

"What kind of strange noises?" asked the Doctor, sitting down, sounding almost uninterested.

"Voices, lots of clanging going on deep underground."

"It's probably the Cybermen. You said you saw the cocoons," The Doctor placed his feet on top of the desk.

"Should we investigate?"

"No, they'll shut up after a while, I'm sure."

"What should we do, then?"

The Doctor let out a deep sigh. "Oh, just try to figure things out I suppose. No need to go to where the Cybermen are and risk getting killed. I went back and inspected that generator. It's a T2750A Hydron Sequencer. It creates massive amounts of power by splitting hydrogen and carbon atoms, and rearranging them so that the atoms are part hydrogen and part carbon, and then splitting them again. Rinse, lather, repeat. It generates so much power, one second of it being turned on could power all of the UK."

"Could it drain all the power in the UK?"

The Doctor's already relatively widely opened eyes opened even wider. "Yes, Brigadier, it could. In theory, if wired correctly it could. Have there been power fluctuations recently?"

"Yes, the past year we've had some power outages. We just figured it was just the council doing some rewiring."

"A _year_? Oh, no. No, that is not good at all. How many homeless live around here?"

"What kind of question is that? The Cybermen are draining all this power and the first thing that comes to your mind is the _homeless_?"

"Answer the question, Brigadier."

The Brigadier sighed. "There used to be a large population of homeless people around here. But recently that population has…" the Brigadier realized where this was going.

"Lowered?" the Doctor suggested.

"Yes," said the Brigadier, seemingly staring into nothing. He shook his head. "It's lowered quite dramatically. There used to be hundreds-_thousands_ of homeless people in London, but they've all disappeared. Do you think-"

"I don't think, Brigadier, I _know_. The Cybermen have already converted thousands of people. There is a Cyber-army rising, and judging from that generator, they're like nothing we've ever seen before."

Selma Farrell sat down on the recliner and turned on the television. It had been a day since her talk with the Doctor, and though she still didn't believe he was _really _an alien, she was starting to wonder if what happened to her husband _was _of the supernatural. There was no one who worked at PsiGen that she could think of that would want to hurt George. Certainly not George's best friend, Paxton. She figured she'd call him. Pax was as shocked as she was. He'd grown up with George, and knew him better than even Selma did.

She picked up the phone from its receiver and dialed Pax's number. It rang, and shortly after the phone on the other end was picked up. "Hello?" said the voice on the other line.

"Hey, Pax."

"Oh, hey, Selma," said Pax. His voice was deep and scratchy from years of smoking and drinking.

"How're you holding up?" Selma asked.

"I'm doing better, I guess. I can't imagine what you're going through, being hounded by the feds like that."

"It's not so bad. You meet some odd characters on the way. Get this: I met this one guy who worked with them who said he was an alien."

Pax laughed. "Did he give you any proof?"

"He gave me a stethoscope and made it sound like he had two hearts. Ridiculous. Probably had something in his shirt or something."

Pax laughed again. He had one of those laughs that was loud and rowdy, yet enjoyable to listen to. Pax was a riot at parties. But the laugh turned to a low, guttural growl, which turned into a horrible choking noise, which turned to silence.

A new voice entered went through the phone, but Selma knew there was no way it was human. It was deep, metallic, and cold.

"_Target eliminated. Identification: Paxton Ronald Nicholson. Sensors indicate low intelligence. Paxton Ronald Nicholson to be converted to the Drone Class_."

Dropping the phone, Selma gagged on the knot in her throat. Bursting to tears, she realized that she had to go to UNIT. Maybe the Doctor was right after all.

"What was his name?" the Brigadier asked the doctor, or rather, the surgeon performing the autopsy. They were at the scene of the crime in the PsiGen facility.

"Paxton Nicholson. Age 53. And there doesn't appear to be any cause of death."

The Doctor piped up. "He was strangled."

"No he wasn't," said the surgeon, bewildered.

"Yes, he was, he was strangled in a very special way," he said, as if he was teaching them a kindergarten lesson about how bees make honey. "I'm willing to bet these Cybermen gave him a dose of Cybermites, little metal insects controlled by the Cybermen, which help with the converting process. They probably crawled into his skin and blocked his windpipe until he died, leaving no trace that they were there. Now, get rid of that body, it's unseemly."

The Brigadier groaned as he followed the Doctor out of the operating room and into the hallway. "Doctor, I don't know how to say this, but your new personality is somewhat...uncouth."

"Yes, I know, I enjoy it, don't you?" asked the Doctor as he stepped outside, where the TARDIS was tucked away in a corner of the building's exterior. The Doctor pulled the key out of his pocket, inserted it into the door, and stepped in.

The Brigadier followed suit, and marvelled at the new, darker interior. "You've redecorated..."

"Don't say it," the Doctor groaned. "That joke is getting stale."

"I like it."

"Way to go against the grain," the Doctor mumbled to himself.

The Doctor slammed the dematerialization lever down, with coordinates heading for UNIT HQ.

With a thud, the TARDIS engines roared and the rotors on the ceiling began to turn.

"I've missed this," the Brigadier said, reminiscently.

"I haven't."

The Brigadier turned to look at the Doctor, offended.

"Well, riding in here. I've been doing it for so long. But, yes, I suppose I've missed _you_. It's been far too long," the Doctor smiled, but the Brigadier could tell it was only half-hearted. It was like the Doctor had seen something he hadn't wanted to.

The TARDIS engines began to settle down in the new location, the Brigadier's office at UNIT HQ.

The Doctor and the Brigadier exited the TARDIS, and walked down the hallway and into the Brigadier's office. What the Doctor saw in it made him stop dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" the Brigadier asked, looking over the Doctor's shoulders. "Oh."

It was Selma Farrell, sitting at the Brigadier's desk.

"I'm ready to listen," she said, crossing her legs over the desk.

The Brigadier walked around the desk to where Selma was sitting. "I'd like to sit in my own chair, if you don't mind, this _is _my office, after all." Selma just glared at him.

"No. You two are going to sit right there-" she pointed to the wooden chairs in fornt of the desk. "-and you are going to answer my questions. You _did _say that UNIT was a group that _answered _questions rather than ask them."

The Brigadier could tell she was not kidding. The Doctor resignedly sat down, and the Brigadier followed suit. "Okay," the Doctor said. "But first, you are going to answer me this: how did you get in here without getting caught?"

"I guess I'm just good. Now, what happened to Paxton?"

"He was killed."

"I know that much, I was on the phone with him when he died. I want to know who or _what_ killed him."

"That's impossible. There's no record of him being on the phone when he was killed. He didn't use the phone at all that day. We have nothing on record," the Brigadier exclaimed.

"That's where you're wrong, Lethbridge-Stewart," the Doctor said. "You forget, the Cybermen are not simply metal men. They are technologically advanced 'upgraded humans'. Their technological prowess knows no bounds. I'll wager they can hack into your telephone system and delete the record without any problems whatsoever."

Selma was confused. "What are Cybermen?"

The Brigadier looked to the Doctor, even though he remembered the invasion of 1968. The Doctor was much better at explaining things. "The Cybermen are a race of humans who tried to cheat death, and they succeeded, by replacing nearly every biological component on their bodies with metal. They became immortal. It became their mission to upgrade any form of life, in an effort to make everyone immortal."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Selma.

"That's because I haven't _gotten_ to the bad part yet. In order to survive, they has to delete their emotions so that they wouldn't go to war with each other or commit suicide. Due to this, they go about their business in an intrusive way. They invade planets and force people to convert. It's hard to look at a Cyberman and know that it used to be human."

To the Doctor, this was standard fare. He'd battled the Cybermen before, but everytime he did, it seemed to get harder and harder. For Selma, it was hard to process.

"So, that's what killed George and Pax?" she asked.

"Yes," the Brigadier said, his eyes solemn and sincere.

"Where are these Cybermen?" she asked, her eyes starting to tear up.

"We believe there's an entire army of Cybermen in the bowels of the PsiGen building."

She was aware that she showed emotional weakness by crying. She had to prove to them she was strong, and brave, even if it was false bravery."Show me," she said in total bravado.

"No," said the Doctor. "Absolutely not."

"Why?" Selma asked, angry.

"It's too dangerous. We don't know how many are down there. Hundreds? Thousands? We don't know. But there are a lot of them."

Selma's face, which was normally a stoic, calm one, twisted into a scowl more powerful than even the Doctor's. Despite her rage, which was very evident in her face, she only said two words.

"Show. Me."

The Doctor knew when he was defeated. He sighed. "Okay," he said. "I'll show you. But you have to promise that you will not make any contact with them. They must not see you or hear you."

"Okay. Deal," she said, her face still red.

The Doctor sighed again, clearly knowing this was a terrible idea. "Follow me," he said, advancing toward the door.

They walked down the hallway until they reached the TARDIS.

"A police box? What's this doing in a hallway?" Selma asked.

The Doctor smiled. "Come on," he said, opening the door.

Selma was clueless. "In there?"

"Yeah, just go in."

Wary, Selma stepped into the TARDIS, and gasped at what she saw inside. Not quite believing what she was seeing, she remarked on how much bigger on the inside was.

"Yes, it is. I've never not met anyone who hasn't said that. Except Vincent van Gogh."

"What?"

"Nothing."

The Doctor typed the coordinates to the PsiGen facility and brought the dematerialization lever down, and the TARDIS engines roared.

"What's happening?" Selma asked,.

"Moving."

"_Moving_?"

"Yes, moving."

"Okay...when will we _stop_ moving?"

The sound of the engines stopped with a thud. "Right now," the Doctor smiled.

The Doctor and Selma slipped out of the TARDIS and into the PsiGen building. They walked past the crime scene where George was killed. The Doctor saw the chalk outline and told Selma not to look, but it was too late. Sniffling, a single tear fell from her eye as they walked past.

They entered the dimly lit hallway and walked down it a ways until they reached a staircase, which they proceeded to walk down.

"So where are the Cybermen?" she asked.

"Their tombs are down deep. Very deep."

"How deep?"

"A long way under the basement floor, but they'll probably have some drones patrolling the basement."

"Drones?" she asked, terrified.

"Yes," the Doctor said.

"When Paxton was killed the Cyberman said he was going to be converted into the Drone Class."

"I'm so sorry. The Cybermen have _classes _now? Used to be they were just _there_. If a drone was needed, a Cyberman would go there. But now there are actually classifications? They're getting more and more organized by the minute."

They finally reached the end of the staircase and peered out the small window on the door, making very sure they wouldn't be seen. The Doctor could make out some Cybermen _constructing _something.

"They're building something?" Selma asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said, quietly and gravely.

"What are they building?" she asked, but the Doctor stayed silent.

The basement was dark with a faint red glow. There were flares set up around the construction site.

"Flares? That's a bit primitive, isn't it?" the Doctor asked to no one in particular.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue, and low-almost guttural-robotic voice sounded.

It was a Cyberman.


	4. Chapter Three

"_The Cybermen are not primitive. We used what was available to us for maximum efficiency."_

The Doctor chuckled. "Yeah, maximum efficiency. You're all about efficiency, aren't you, metalhead?" he said, turning around.

The Cyberman paused, determining how to respond. "_Correct_."

The Doctor noted the black handles on its head, signifying that it was the Cyberleader.

"Hello, Cyberleader, how are you?"

"_This question is irrelevant. Scanning in progress._"

The Cyberleader scanned Selma first. "_Identification: Selma Jessica Powell, age: 34 years, female, human, high intelligence. To be converted to Strategist Class._"

The Cyberleader scanned the Doctor next. "_Identification: unknown, age: 2,005 years , male, Time Lord, intelligence-_" The Cyberleader paused.

The Doctor smiled expectantly.

"_Data unavailable_. _Intelligence immeasurably high. The Doctor is to be upgraded to Cyber Controller._"

"Come on, we've been through this," the Doctor sighed. "I'm a Time Lord. I'm incompatible!"

"_Compatibility is not an obstacle._"

The Doctor grunted. These Cybermen were the most advanced ones he'd met. More advanced than ones he battled at Hedgewick's World or the one's made by the Master. They had somehow found a way to convert people without the need of big factories or effecting the weather. The Doctor hadn't known the means by which these Cybermen were converting people.

"How are you converting all these people?"

"_The Cybermites have been upgraded. Approximately two to three Cybermites can uprgrade one humanoid in a matter of thirty minutes._"

"How many Cybermites do you have here?"

"_Cybermite production generations one thousand Cybermites per minute. The Cybermen have been residing on Earth for three months. At present, there are approximately __131,487,000 Cybermites on Earth._"

Selma looked to the Doctor, and she could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea what he was going to do.

"And what are you going to do with us?" she asked, worried.

"_You will be upgraded,_" the Cyberman said as he slammed a fist to the roundel on his chest.

"He's calling for his drones. Let's get out of here!" the Doctor yelled, grabbing Selma by the hand, and making for the door. They quickly stormed up the stairs, the Cybermen trudging after them. There were only five of them, including the Cyberleader. Passing by a fire alarm, the Doctor pulled it, in the hopes that the people upstairs would evacuate. The sound was harsh against Selma's ears.

Reaching the last flight of stairs, they rammed through the door leading to the office area, where UNIT was investigating.

"Everybody out!" the Doctor yelled over the sound of the fire alarm. "Not a drill! _Not a drill! _ Everyone get out of here!"

A crowd of UNIT soldiers and scientists rushed out of the building. The Doctor and Selma followed suit. When they got outside, the Doctor peered into the Cybermen were marching towards them. The Doctor racked his mind for ideas to barricade them inside.

"Everyone! Park the trucks against any door you can find!" he yelled. "Hopefully it'll trap them in! And someone call the Brigadier and get him over here!"

The Brigadier arrived when the last of the trucks was parked in front of the doors. Stepping out of the escort, he determinedly when to find the Doctor.

"What the hell have you done?!" he yelled.

"The Cybermen chased us so we trapped them inside."

"Oh, fantastic. Now they can find all of our files and evidence and destroy them. This case is ruined!"

"No it isn't, Brigadier. Now we have proof that the Cybermen are here. Eyewitness accounts and video evidence, _and _we know their location."

"And how, exactly are we supposed to get the tapes from the CCTV? They're inside! There's no case, Doctor."

Selma poked a finger into the Brigadier's chest. "Forget the damn case!" she yelled. "Something awful is going on down there!"

"The Cybermen are converting people with the Cybermites. They've created over a hundred million of them. Just three of them can convert one person in half an hour. And I don't think the Cybermen are just stockpiling their Cybermites in a big bank either. No, no, they're releasing them outside to invade peoples homes right under their noses."

"But why have they only been converting the homeless?"

"Because the homeless are the first people they find. Chances are, they are released at night, to get people in their sleep, but the first people they find are the homeless. Easy targets. The Cybermen are all about efficiency. They get and use whatever is nearest to them no matter how much use they are."

"So once all the vagabonds are out of the way…" the Brigadier started.

The Doctor finished. "...they start entering homes and businesses. If we don't stop this soon, people will go missing. Brigadier, this is not going to be easy. In fact, I think this will be the hardest thing we'll ever do."

"_If _we do it."

"Don't give up, Brigadier. This isn't hopeless," the Doctor said. Everything has a weakness. The Cybermen are allergic to gold, and hopefully there's still bits of plastic in them. We could melt parts of them with some nail polish remover."

"Gold and nail polish remover aren't going to stop the Cybermites," Selma announced. They are the main problem right now. If my psychology classes are remembered well, many of our problems stem from things that happened in our past. Doctor, you said these Cybermen are more advanced than the ones you met before. Perhaps the Cybermen still have traces of weaknesses from their past. You said they were all about efficiency as if that was a strength. Maybe it could be a weakness, too. Any change they make to themselves have _got _to be in the interest of efficiency. Some of these changes must weaken them somehow in order to makes things easier."

The Doctor was surprised she came up with this theory so quickly. But there was only one thing he could think to say. "You took psychology classes?"

"Well, I _am _a therapist," she said simply. "Thanks for asking.

"That comes in handy," said the Brigadier.

"A deus ex machina this early, that's a record," the Doctor said, to no one in particular.

"Where's the TARDIS?" the Brigadier asked after a paused.

"Inside," the Doctor said, calmly, as if nothing was wrong.

"Inside?" the Brigadier asked, worried.

"Yes, inside-_inside_. Oh, dear. Yes, it's inside the building we barricaded with metal men who might be able to get inside it. That would be a problem. In fact, the word _might _is a bit strong. They probably actually can, as I left the key in the door. Meaning it's locked. Meaning the Cybermen can get in."

"Grand," said the Brigadier.


	5. Chapter Four

IV

After moving the truck in front of the front door of the PsiGen building, the Doctor opened the door. The three entered the dark, empty complex that, not thirty minutes before, was under UNIT's scrutiny. In the darkness there was no sign of the Cybermen. No glowing blue roundels, no hiss of gas exchange in the pistons on their exoskeletons.

"Is the TARDIS in here?" asked Selma.

"I hope so. The Cybermen can't have moved it, can they?" the Doctor said, taking the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and scanned for the TARDIS. "They _have_ moved it!"

"But where?" asked the Brigadier.

"Downstairs?" said Selma. "That's where they're operating."

"But what would they do with it?" the Brigadier asked.

"That's not the question. The question is what _wouldn't_ they do with it? The TARDIS is the most powerful machine in the universe. Not only could they use it for more power, but they could use it to terrorize the entire universe from any point in time. If the Cybermen have my TARDIS, we have to get it back-and _fast_. Let's go!"

The three stormed downstairs until they reached the door into the basement. The basement was enveloped in a deep, red glow, like a photo development room. Looking through the small, reinforced glass window of the door, the Doctor scanned the room. There were five Cybermen guarding something tall and rectangular, covered by a tarpaulin.

"I presume that's the TARDIS?" said the Brigadier.

"Quite possibly. Or maybe it's a hibernation chamber that hasn't been installed yet. Maybe a component to the generator," said the Doctor.

"Well, we have to see, you said it was the most powerful machine in the universe. If that's true, we can't let the Cybermen have it. We need to take any chance we have to in order to get it back," Selma said, sternly.

"You're right," the Doctor said, slowly and carefully opening the door. The Doctor pulled his screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the five Cybermen. Immediately, they began to repeat the words "_Vision impaired,_" multiple times.

"I've disabled their photoreceptors and audiorecievers."

"What?" asked Selma.

"They're blind and deaf, come on!"

Bolting for the covered structure, the Doctor threw his arms at the the tarp and pulled it off.

It wasn't the TARDIS. Encased in a glass container was a Cyberman, but strikingly and disturbingly different. The armor was totally transparent, revealing the human inside. The human inside the clear Cyber armor was beginning to rot. The faceplate had small syringes built into it, poking into the man's face. The blue roundel was actually a heart of steel, the roundel leading into a thick tube inserted into the man's chest and out through his back. There was nothing below his waist: his legs were completely cybernetic. Three Cybermites were trailing around the mass of skin, plastic, and metal.

"It's horrible. What is it?" Selma asked, fearing the answer.

"It's the conversion process," the Doctor said, solemnly. "Those needles in the faceplate are what keep the brain alive. The body isn't needed, so they just allow it to rot away. By the time the conversion process is done, the body is completely withered away. Any physical space left is converted into energy banks."

The Brigadier saw that tears were forming in the Doctor's eyes. He had never seen the Doctor cry. Now, he realized he hadn't wanted to.

"Is...is this what happened to George?" Selma asked.

"Yes," said the Doctor, coldly. "This is what happened to him. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry."

Selma nodded, sniffling. "It's not your fault. You couldn't control it."

The Doctor didn't answer.

"He feels he's responsible for the people on this planet. If someone dies around him, he feels as if it's on his head. Somehow, I think that's what keeps him going."

"No," the Doctor said. "That's not why I'm crying. I'm not crying because of George. Not because of this man. It's just that I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'm going to save this planet. Everytime the Cybermen come up they just become more and more powerful, and I honestly believe I've met my match this time."

The Brigadier had never seen the Doctor like this. He'd never seen the Doctor without so much hope. As long as he'd known him, the Doctor never gave up. If the Doctor gave up, then there was no hope for anyone.

"You're giving up?" asked the Brigadier.

The Doctor looked at him as if he'd slapped him in the face. "Giving up? Brigadier, I don't know how you get such wild ideas. Of course I haven't given up, I just don't know what I'm doing. I have to figure out what I'm doing, and that's frustrating. I'm frustrated. I'm no quitter, Brigadier, you of all people should know this."

"Right," he said, sorry he even said anything.

"_Vision repaired_."

"They can see again. Run!" said the Doctor.

"Where?"

"Er," the Doctor said, pulling his scewdriver out. After a few seconds he pointed down the left hallway of the basement. "That way. That's where the TARDIS is!"

"How do you know?" asked the Brigadier.

"I just do. The sonic screwdriver is good at finding things, now let's go!"

The Doctor sped down the left hallway, sonic screwdriver extended.

"It's around here somewhere…" he said, scanning the many doors they passed by.

The screwdriver began to let out a loud, high pitched ringing.

"No, come on, now! We're so close, do you have to overheat _now_?" he said.

The Cybermen were right behind them.

"This isn't looking good, Doctor," said Selma.

"No, it isn't."

The Cybermen were on them. One Cyberman was extending it's arm toward the Doctor's neck when a high pitched beeping rang in triplets from the sonic.

"It's in here!" the Doctor said, heading for the door right in front of them. He opened it, and flinched at what he saw inside. The room was the average size of an office, but all around the walls were hibernation chambers, and in the center of the room was the TARDIS.

There were wires running from each chamber and into the TARDIS.

"Typical. No, no. Don't use the TARDIS for it's intended purpose, just use it as a great big _battery_," the Doctor said, condescendingly.

Swinging the doors open, he motioned for the Brigadier and Selma to get in. When everyone was inside, he ran up to the console and tore the cords and wires from them and threw them out the door. He snapped his fingers, shutting the door. After walking back to the console, he set coordinates for UNIT HQ.

"_Controller_," the Cyberleader called.

"_**Yes**_," the Cyber Controller replied, not questioning what the Cyberleader was there for, but as a confirmation that he was there.

"_Three humanoids were found infiltrating our hibernation chambers._"

"_**What did you do with them**_?"

"_We could not do anything_."

"_**Why not**_?"

"_They were too fast_."

"_**What were their profiles**_?"

"_Selma Jessica Powell, Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, and the Doctor._"

The name of Selma Jessica was insignificant, but the Cyber Controller knew of Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and the Doctor.

"_**The Doctor must have been looking for his TARDIS. Did he retrieve it**_?"

"_Yes._"

"_**Our plan is working just as planned. See that phase three is put into place.**_"

"_Yes_," the Cyberleader replied, slamming a fist into the roundel on it's chest.

The TARDIS materialized back in the hallway of UNIT HQ. Exiting it, the Doctor, the Brigadier, and Selma walked toward the Brigadier's office. The Doctor, albeit without the Brigadier's permission, sat the in the large, leather chair behind the desk of the Brigadier's office. Rolling his eyes, the Brigadier sat in the comfiest chair he could find, and Selma did the same.

"So," the Doctor said. "The Cybermen have been doing huge things, and I suspect they're planning bigger things. I don't know what those bigger things are, but they are bigger than what they're doing now. So, the best way to fight someone is to be one step ahead of them. Selma, you said that their attraction to efficiency may be a weakness. It is. The actions of an overly efficient person is very predictable, so the actions of a whole _race _of overly efficient people shouldn't be too hard to predict, either. So let's think about this. For maximum efficiency, what would an army of Cybermen do when their numbers grow so quickly?"

"I should think they need more organization," said the Brigadier. "With so many foot soldiers, an army of that size would need rankings."

"Precisely. Selma, the first time we came down here, I said that Cybermen never had an organized military, or at least something close to that. All they had were a few high rankings that could be filled in with any Cyberman, just with a little extra data downloaded into their minds. Now, however, they have _classes_. Your husband, you said the Cybermen were going to convert him into the Drone class, and when the Cyberleader threatened us, it said you were to be converted to the Strategist class."

"And _you _to Cyber Lord," said Selma.

"Yes, we'll get to that. The Cybermen have become so militant that they have actual classes as opposed to replaceable ranks. They don't just become a big army. They become a military. What does an military need?"

"A leader," said the Brigadier

"Exactly. That's what the Cybermen are doing. They are making a new leader."

"They already _have_ a Cyberleader," said Selma.

"No, no, no. There are hundreds of Cyberleaders, their new leader is of the highest rank. They need someone with intelligence that surpasses even their own. They need someone who knows the past and the future. They need a CyberLord."

"But, that's what the Cyberleader said they were going to..._oh_," said Selma.

"What?" said the Brigadier, confused.

The Doctor smiled. Admittedly, the Doctor had to admire their plan, but only because he was flattered to be the man of choice.

"I'm what the Cybermen need. I'm to be the CyberLord," he said.


End file.
